


Trick of the Sense

by MistralSoul



Category: Shades of Magic - V. E. Schwab
Genre: Gen, Mistaken Identity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-26
Updated: 2020-03-26
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:42:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23333311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistralSoul/pseuds/MistralSoul
Summary: Flowers. Ned should've known it was flowers that signified Master Kell.
Kudos: 8





	Trick of the Sense

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for a challenge over at fanfiction.net and I was debating posting this here but honestly? This account is empty and needs some more stories, so why not post? I don't normally write for books, but I feel in love with this series.

Ned never bothered to memorize all the features of Master Kell.

He knew the magician was exactly that - a magician, born with magic, perhaps from a different world - with red hair. And carried a smell that wasn’t like that of Ned’s world. But Ned never knew the scent well enough, it probably faded by the time he ran into Master Kell, but it was still a scent unlike any others.

So when the smell of ashes overpowered the smell of smoke, Ned thought only one thing. Master Kell.

He didn’t forget their deal after all.

With a spring in his step, Ned waltzed towards the smell of ashes, wishing only for his dirt so he could properly become a magician. One worthy of Master Kell.

In his mind, a scenario played out.

Here’s your enchanted dirt, Master Edward Archibald Tuttle the Third, Master Kell would say.

Just Ned would do, Master Kell, Ned would say with a flurry of excitement rushing up to his face, fighting to hide it before anyone could notice. Master Kell thought highly of him, he had to act composed.

You know, you might just be the best magician in all of this world. Say, how about we go to my world and I’ll personally train you.

And at that Ned would swoon. He’d be a magician trained under the best magician he knew. The only magician he knew, but that didn’t matter. Ned never saw a magician master all of the elements, although he wasn’t sure if he saw a magician master any of the elements, but Master Kell did. Therefore he was the best he’s ever saw,

When Ned arrived at the scene, The Stone’s Throw was on fire and the smell of ashes overpowered the smell of smoke, probably because The Stone’s Throw was turned into ashes.

And the man in the middle of it all did not have red hair.

The man in the middle had black hair, but not a jet black color. No, his hair color was dirty, as if it weren’t fully black nor fully grey. His statue was also more akin to a soldier, with rather broad shoulders and a posture that of a man who had gone through rigor mortis. Straight, unnaturally so. Not at all relaxed.

This man was not Master Kell.

This man would not bring him the dirt Ned had so desperately wanted.

But still, if Ned knew anything about Master Kell - and that was few and minute, as the man kept to himself and only made a show of the elements - it was that The Stone’s Throw was their place. Master Kell would return to The Stone’s Throw. Master Kell would walk in and Master Kell would give him the dirt, in there, in The Stone’s Throw. That was the arrangement they made. Well, that was the arrangement Ned thought in his mind. This man, whoever he was, was ruining this. And Ned was going to deal with it the only way he knew how.

With magic. His magic.

“Hey you, what are you doing to the tavern?”

The man turns around and Ned is immediately taken aback. Where one eye was a green as cold as emerald, but much duller than an emerald should, one eye was black as the abyss. All of it. Any part that should’ve been green or white was black, black as the ashes that charred the remains of The Stone’s Throw. That wasn’t natural, that couldn’t be natural…

But then Ned remembered, Master Kell was hiding his eye.

The same eye this man had black.

Perhaps it was the mark of a magician. A mark that Ned would inevitably get. A mark that made Ned nearly terrified, but delighted. If a fully black eye were what told of him as a magician, then a fully black eye he would get.

But something was wrong. Where Ned imagined his as a prideful tool, a sign of mastery of magic, the man’s eye was horrid. It rang wrong. It didn’t feel natural, or friendly, or anything Ned would want.

No, the eye rang cold.

The man cracked his neck and started to leave, mumbling something Ned didn’t catch. But Ned wasn’t done yet.

“That’s the place where Master Kell and I were supposed to meet. If you ruin it I’ll -“

“And what is your relationship to him?” the man asked. His voice was cold, so very cold. Unnaturally so, it didn’t feel right.

Nothing this man said and did felt right, so Ned backed away. He’d just… buy out The Stone’s Throw. That wasn’t an issue. Master Kell would come, because it only mattered the location, not the name.

Yet the man moves the same distance to him. As if Ned wasn’t supposed to move, as if Ned was engaged in a conversation with this man he had to continue.

And he was, as the man repeats the question in the same, steady, harsh, tone as he did before, because he asked Ned a question and Ned never answered.

What was his relationship to Master Kell.

If there was any bite to Ned, he would’ve asked what was this man’s relationship to Master Kell, but there was none, so he didn’t.

So instead, he answered.

“He promised me some dirt so I could practice my magic.”

The man looks at him, never changing. If this man was surprised by what Ned said, in a world where magic was hidden, he didn’t show it. He showed nothing. No emotion, no thought, no recognition of the craziness - as Ned’s parents would call it - of what Ned just said. Instead he just spoke, the words coming out smoothly yet jagged. Harsh, yet mild.

“Go before you die. Do not cross my path again.”

Ned knew when to run. He knew when to run and he was almost sure he knew when to stay. But this wasn’t one of those unsure moments where he was going to show off his magic and stay. No, he wasn’t a fool. He was going to take the opportunity to run, turn tail, because that wasn't bad, right?

And in the end, he would spin it into something else.

And there was this huge statue of a man I made afraid of me with my growing magic strength, Ned would say, and Master Kell would look at him with that one blue eye glowing in praise.

Ned, you are so amazing, I want to teach you all of the magic I know. Please, let me take you in as an apprentice.

* * *

A couple weeks later, Ned was signing papers so he could officially own The Stone's Throw, so his meeting place with Master Kell would be preserved. And as he signed papers, he realized.

Chrysanthemums.

Master Kell always smelled like chrysanthemums.


End file.
